you steal me away with your eyes and with your mouth
by Alexandra Shinai
Summary: "I want to take them off," he finally says, gesturing towards Roman's grey sweatpants, still riding sinfully low on his hips. Seth wants to take them off and kiss and lick at every curve of Roman's hips and upper thighs, wants to fucking worship Roman, because it's what he deserves, for having such a nice body and for letting Seth do this. [Shield-era Rolleigns PWP.]
**This is my first time writing from Seth's POV so hopefully this isn't terrible. Kinda sorta a gift for a friend who likes Rolleigns a lot.**

The first time is an accident.

It's late in the evening, and Seth's lounging on his bed in their shared hotel room, scrolling idly through Twitter on his phone. Just a few feet away, in the second bed, Dean is sound asleep, snoring softly, sprawled across Roman's legs, while Roman is sitting up with his back against the headboard, apparently looking for something to watch on the TV.

"A hundred channels," Roman had proclaimed, reading through the complimentary informational packet they'd been offered after the three of them had dumped their stuff in the room. Leave it to Roman to be the one obsessed with the TV offerings at each of the hotels they stayed at. Seth didn't really care, didn't really watch much TV nowadays, but if it made Roman happy, then he wasn't going to object.

Seth glances up from his phone at Roman, studying him silently. The TV remote is clasped in one of Roman's hands, and the other is gently, absentmindedly scratching through Dean's hair, and Seth's sure that if Dean was awake, he'd either be purring like a cat or fighting it all the way.

Roman's hair is still wet from the shower, and little droplets of water are falling off the ends of his hair, running down his bare chest and pooling in the crease of his hips. As Seth's eyes trail lower, it occurs to him that Roman's wearing his grey sweatpants _way_ too low for comfort. It's all he's wearing, but they're so low, Seth can see the V of his hips, and he's convinced that if Roman's sweatpants were just an inch lower, he'd be able to see the base of Roman's cock.

It doesn't even look like he's wearing any underwear. That's not something Seth would expect from him; Dean, maybe, because Seth's seen Dean's junk so many times that he's lost count, because Dean has no shame and is willing to change clothes anywhere and everywhere, and Seth wouldn't be surprised if Dean chose to forego underwear, but Roman...

He swallows and forces himself to shift his gaze back to his phone, disturbed by the sudden flash of heat he'd felt run through him at the thought of Roman going commando, of seeing Roman's cock.

"What were you starin' at me for?" Roman asks, and Seth forces himself to look at him, and Roman's looking at him curiously, the hand in Dean's hair still, and _fuck,_ Roman's noticed him staring and Roman will kill him if he ever finds out what Seth's been thinking.

"N-Nothing," Seth squeaks, and he mentally curses himself because he's never told a shittier-sounding lie.

"Alright, if you say so," Roman responds, and Seth can feel himself flushing red as Roman stares at him, scrutinizing him, and he knows Roman can see right through his lie.

* * *

The second time isn't an accident.

Seth hasn't been able to get the thought out of his head, and more than once he's jerked off in the shower thinking about it, imagining getting down on his knees in front of Roman, hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of Roman's sweatpants and pulling them down, seeing for himself whether or not Roman chose to go without underwear, maybe tasting his cock...

He always comes hardest with thoughts like those, coming hard enough that his legs wobble and nearly give out and he has to brace himself against the wall to keep himself from falling, but he steps out of the shower overcome with guilt, because Roman is his _friend_ , Roman is _straight_ , Roman is his _straight friend_ , and Seth shouldn't be thinking about him like that.

Seth's sprawled out on the hotel room bed, in a different hotel in a different city hundreds of miles from the one that had first resulted in this problem currently plaguing him, trying to entertain himself by playing some game with a name he can't remember on his phone. He looks up from his phone when he hears movement, and finds Roman with his arm slung over Dean's shoulders, the two of them heading toward the door.

"Hey, where are you guys going?" Seth asks, and Roman turns back to look at him.

"We're just gonna hit the vending machines downstairs. You want anything?"

"Uh, just a water," Seth says, and Roman nods and turns back to the door, and they leave without another word. Seth sets his phone down on the bed and hurriedly pushes himself off the bed, and his heart is pounding in his chest because now he has an opportunity to find the answer to the question he's been pondering for so long.

He finds Roman's suitcase, thankfully unlocked, and starts rifling through it. He finds plenty of clothes - shoes, shirts, pants - but nothing that looks even remotely like underwear. Confused, he goes to Dean's suitcase, which has already been flung wide open, rifling through it as well. He finds underwear, and he thinks maybe Dean stole Roman's underwear, but all he can find is boxer briefs and he doesn't think Roman's the type to wear boxer briefs.

He goes back to Roman's suitcase, just to make sure, and that's when he hears the _click_ of the door opening, and he panics and flings himself back onto his bed, scrabbling for his phone (which ends up on the floor with the force of his weight landing on the bed), and he manages to snatch it up from the floor and pretends to look busy when Roman and Dean approach.

"How come my suitcase is open?" Roman asks, and Seth feigns innocence.

"I dunno," he says. "Maybe you left it open."

"I know I didn't. Trying to borrow my clothes again, Seth?" Seth mumbles a curse under his breath, because Roman promised they wouldn't talk about that. "I already told you, they ain't gonna fit you. You're too tiny. Try borrowin' Dean's clothes instead."

"He's got his own clothes, he doesn't need mine," Dean protests.

"Be nice, Dean," Roman says, and Dean grumbles something under his breath and tosses Seth's requested water bottle at him.

(Seth doesn't even get mad when the lid pops off and the water ends up all over him and the bed instead.)

* * *

The third time is an accident.

They're doing a meet and greet at a store in New Jersey, the three of them sitting at a long table, with Roman in the center and Dean on his right and Seth on his left, and Seth is just starting to get bored, sneaking glances at his phone under the table when he thinks no one's looking.

When they've gotten through the rather large crowd of people wanting to meet them, the owner of the store approaches them, saying he has something to ask Roman that apparently all the fans want to know. Seth's a little intrigued, peeking at Roman occasionally to see his reactions.

"Roman," the guy begins, "all the ladies wanna know—and they told me to ask you this so I'm gonna do it—they wanna know, boxers or briefs?"

 _That_ gets Seth's attention, and he looks up at Roman again, watching him visibly choke on his gum. He chuckles and looks back down at his phone, only to jerk his head up so fast when he hears Roman's answer that he nearly gets whiplash.

"Neither."

"Ohh," Seth says, a little involuntary sound, and he feels dizzy and he's a hundred percent sure he's never been turned on so fast in his life. "Yeah. That's good."

Dean gives him a weird look, and even Roman turns to look at him, and Roman smiles at him, like he knows what's been bothering Seth for the past month, like he knows that Seth's been dying to find out whether or not Roman's been going commando this whole time, like he knows that now that Seth knows, Seth wants proof, wants to see it with his own eyes.

"Don't get too excited, Seth," Roman says, clapping him on the shoulder, and Seth feels his face heating and tries to ignore it by pretending to engross himself in his phone.

He jerks off in the shower that night, thinking about it, thinking about _Roman,_ and when he comes, he comes so hard that his legs actually do give out, and he slips and falls and ends up with a nasty bruise on his leg that Dean spends the next three days poking at repeatedly just to hear Seth's irritated "ow."

* * *

The fourth time is a wonderful accident.

They're all cooped up in their hotel room, the weather outside, a raging thunderstorm, too brutal to do anything else. Roman's flipping through channels on the TV, and Seth is trying to read a book. Trying being the operative word, because Dean is complaining about how bored he is, and Seth's about two minutes from lobbing the book at Dean's head.

Dean whines 'I'm bored' again, and Seth, exhaling sharply, closes his book. "If you're so bored, why don't you shut up and do something about it?" he asks, irritation starting to mount. Roman looks over, apparently noticing the growing tension in the room, and Seth tries really hard not to look at him, because he's wearing nothing but grey sweatpants again, riding low on his hips, and if Seth looks over he's going to start thinking about how badly he wants to tongue the creases of Roman's hips before tonguing the head of his—

Definitely not a good idea to go there.

"Maybe I will," Dean huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Since you two are killing the mood in here." He gets up and storms out, slamming the door behind him, and Seth flinches a little.

It's quiet for a little while after that, Roman staring off at the wall, obviously thinking about something, and Seth staring at him, uncertain of what to say.

"Do you—should we," he tries, and Roman looks back at him. "Should we go after him?"

"Nah. He's fine, he can take care of himself. He'll be back, you know he will," Roman says, and that's probably true, but Dean's always been closer to Roman and Seth really has no idea what Dean's willing to do.

Seth nods and reopens his book, trying to refocus his attention on reading it. Unfortunately, his mind starts wandering, picturing Roman sliding off those grey sweatpants just for him, letting him wrap his lips around the head of his—

Fuuuuuck. Seth has to shove his hand in his crotch to cover up his inevitable boner, hoping desperately that Roman didn't see anything.

He peeks at Roman over the top of his book, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when it seems that Roman is transfixed by the TV. He tries to keep his eyes on his book after that, but the fact that Roman isn't looking at him is just an invitation for Seth to stare, and he can't help but stare, eyes fixed on the sinewy curves of Roman's body, and god, he wants to taste, he wants to kiss every part of him and map out Roman's body with his mouth, and he wants—

"Seth?"

Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Goddamn it all.

He's just been caught staring, and he feels his cheeks flush red as he slowly meets Roman's gaze, and Roman is looking at him intently, a smirk curving up the corner of his lips, and _fuck,_ because he's fucking Roman Reigns he can probably read Seth's mind, just _know_ what Seth's thinking, and Seth is so utterly screwed.

"What?" he finally asks, once his mouth and his brain have gotten back in sync.

"You've been starin' a whole lot lately. You okay?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," he lies. He is not fine. He wants to suck his straight friend's dick and he may or may not want his straight friend to fuck him and both of those things are very not okay.

"Are you sure? Nothin' I can help you with?"

"Yeah—I mean, no. No. Nothing."

Roman gets up from the opposite hotel room bed and walks over to Seth's, settling down on the edge, and Seth feels that with Roman this close, Roman will _definitely_ be able to read his mind and figure out what's up with him, and Seth is so, so fucked.

Roman places his hand on Seth's knee, gently stroking his thumb over it, and he needs Roman not to do that so he doesn't accidentally spill everything he's been feeling for the past month and a half.

"You know you can talk to me, right? You don't need to hide shit from me. We're brothers, Seth."

This is one thing Seth _has_ to hide from him. "I know," he says, and he hopes his voice doesn't sound as uncertain as he feels.

"Then talk to me! C'mon, Seth, tell me what's up."

Seth briefly argues with himself in his head, one part of him consumed with guilt over trying to hide something from Roman, who he should be able to trust with anything, another part of him consumed with guilt over the fact that he's having these kind of thoughts about Roman in the first place, and a third part of him saying ' _tell him, fuck it,'_ even though he just _knows_ Roman will hate him.

"Please?"

Seth looks up at Roman, and Roman's looking at him pleadingly, his hand still firm on Seth's knee, and the third part of him wins, and everything comes spilling out of him before he can even attempt to control it.

"So like a month ago, I saw you wearing nothing but sweatpants and it kind of fucked me up a little because your sweatpants were really low and I started thinking maybe you weren't wearing underwear and that turned me on a lot and I don't know why but it's been bothering me forever and then we had that meet and greet in New Jersey and when that guy asked you 'boxers or briefs' you said 'neither' and I got turned on so fast I got dizzy and I just can't stop thinking about you not wearing any underwear and I think I want to suck your dick even though I know you're straight and not into that." It all rushes out of him, one exhaustingly long run-on sentence, and by the end of it, Roman's eyebrow is raised, but his expression seems neutral, and Seth's just waiting for the blow to come, and so he gets a head start on it.

"I'm sorry, Roman, fuck, I'm sorry, please don't hate me, you were just looking at me like that I couldn't not—" and he's cut off by Roman's hand grabbing his wrist, clutching it tightly and forcing him to drop his book, and Seth gulps as he looks at Roman, his heart pounding a million miles an hour in his chest.

"I don't hate you," Roman says, his voice softer than Seth expects.

"You don't?"

"Of course not. You're my brother. I wouldn't ever hate you."

"Then—then—" and for once, Seth can't finish his sentence, for once, the one who always talks doesn't know what to say. It's one of only a few times he can recall ever being speechless.

"You should've told me sooner, if it's been bothering you so long. I think we could've worked something out."

Seth stares at Roman, open-mouthed, as the other man stands up and turns to face him, hooking his thumbs underneath the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Do you want me to?" Roman asks. "Or do you want to?"

Again, Seth doesn't know what to say. "I—um—I," he begins, swallowing, trying his hardest to get the words off his tongue. "Can you pinch me?"

Roman raises an eyebrow, and when he speaks, his voice is tinged with amusement. "Are you into that?"

"No," _Yes,_ but he's not gonna tell Roman that. "I just—um—think that I might be dreaming."

Roman laughs, but it's soft, completely free of judgment. "Okay," he says, and he reaches over and pinches Seth's upper arm. The mild pain that presents itself as a result is the indication that Seth is definitely not dreaming.

Seth exhales sharply, air rushing out of him like he's just taken a bad bump. His voice is shaky when he speaks. "Are we—are we really doing this?"

"I mean, if you want to," Roman says, hands settling on his hips as he studies Seth. "You want this, right? I'm not reading this wrong, am I?"

"No, no, of course I want to, you have no idea how much I want to," Seth says quickly, too quickly. "But, um... Dean?"

"He'll be out for a while. Don't worry about him, you know how he is," Roman says, and Seth doesn't want to correct him and tell him that he doesn't really know Dean, not like Roman does. "We got time."

Seth breathes in deeply and nods, gesturing blankly with his hands, not quite sure how to communicate what he wants.

"Talk to me, baby boy," Roman encourages. "Tell me what I can do for you."

Talk. He can do this, he's Seth Rollins, he never _stops_ talking. "I want to take them off," he finally says, gesturing towards Roman's grey sweatpants, still riding sinfully low on his hips. Seth wants to take them off and kiss and lick at every curve of Roman's hips and upper thighs, wants to fucking _worship_ Roman, because it's what he deserves, for having such a nice body and for letting Seth do this.

"Alright," Roman says, and he takes a step back from the edge of the bed, giving Seth just enough room between Roman's feet and the edge of the bed. "Go ahead."

Seth nearly gets tangled in the sheets in his enthusiastic scrambling off the bed, sliding off the edge and settling himself in front of Roman's feet, on his knees with his feet tucked underneath him. He stares up at Roman's face, thinking about how this is a nice angle that he hopes to be able to see more than once, and the other man smiles at him, all warm and soft and encouraging.

He reaches up to grasp the waistband of Roman's sweatpants, shaky fingers scrabbling at the fabric, and when he finally gets a secure hold, he tugs downward. They're loose, even over Roman's ridiculously well-sculpted legs, and they come down easily, catching momentarily at his knees before Seth tugs them down the rest of the way and they pool at his feet. Roman gingerly kicks them off and toes them away, and Seth wraps his hands around Roman's ankles to steady himself as he stares up at what he's been thinking about for the past month and a half.

Roman's cock, in all its glory. Thick and long and perfect, just like the rest of him. Seth's convinced that Roman Reigns might be proof God exists, because he knows he looks damn good himself, but he's nothing compared to Roman.

"Ohh," Seth says softly, feeling a little lightheaded, and he's already hard as hell, just from being able to finally do this.

"Like what you see?" Roman asks, and Seth nods fervently. He's so wound up with anticipation that he doesn't even know where to start, how to start.

Seth shakes his head, something in his mind clearing and making him realize where to start. He lets go of Roman's ankles and stretches up onto his knees, ignoring the burn of his knees protesting the rough carpeted floor. He leans in and presses a kiss to one side of the sinewy V of Roman's hips, inhaling deeply and becoming wrapped up in the scent that's uniquely Roman, making his cock throb in his pants. Fuck, he's so turned on it nearly hurts.

He laps at the crease of Roman's hip, tasting a hint of soap from when Roman showered earlier in the day. Moving his attention downward a bit, he bites softly at the meat of Roman's upper thigh, relishing in the gasp that punches out of Roman. He thinks maybe he's overstepped some invisible boundary when Roman's hand slips into his hair and tugs slightly, the strands tight around his fingers, but when Roman murmurs soft encouragement, a rumble low in his throat, Seth continues, mapping out the surface of Roman's thighs with his lips and teeth and tongue.

Roman's fully hard when Seth refocuses his attention on his cock, and Seth decides to take advantage by teasing him some more, leaving featherlight kisses mere half-inches from the base of Roman's cock, until Roman groans out his name and Seth doesn't think he can wait any longer.

He drags his tongue slowly up the length of Roman's cock, from the base to the tip of the head, curling his tongue to collect the pre-cum beading there. Of course, because it's Roman fucking Reigns' dick, it tastes as good as it looks, and Seth just wants _more,_ and right now he's so far gone he couldn't give a fuck if Dean walked in and saw him on his knees with Roman's dick in his mouth.

He starts to lick at the tip, tiny, slow licks that make Roman's breath hitch and his cock twitch. After a little while of that, he moves downward again, tracing the prominent vein on the underside of Roman's cock with the tip of his tongue. Roman's hand is still tight in his hair, an almost painful pressure, but Roman hasn't told him to stop, so he thinks he's doing a good job.

When the tip of his tongue starts to hurt, he pulls back and settles back down, wiping the drool threatening to spill from his lips away with his forearm. Seth eyes Roman's cock hungrily as he reaches down to adjust the hardness in his own pants, an involuntary shuddery sigh leaving his lips at even the briefest contact. His hips instinctively push into his hand, and he moans a little at the feeling that jolts through him.

"Seth," Roman says, his voice low, sharp, a warning. Seth jerks his head up in surprise, blinking in confusion as he stares at Roman. Roman glances down at Seth's hand and then back to his face, then shakes his head, and Seth gets the message loud and clear. "I'll take care of that for you," he promises. "Later." Seth nods slowly, forcing himself to pull his hand away, though not without a whimper of protest.

He leans forward again, and his knees are burning more urgently now but he doesn't care, and he wraps his mouth around the head of Roman's cock. Roman's so goddamn thick that he can already feel the slightest stretch in his jaw, and Seth's sucked dicks before, so many dicks, but trying to suck Roman's makes him feel like the inexperienced teenager he was when he sucked his first one.

"Hey," Roman says softly, and Seth looks up at him. Roman's peering down at him, concern evident on his pretty face. "You okay?"

Seth pulls off to answer, a frown settling over his features. "Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be? What, you think I can't give a guy a good blowjob?" He's on the verge of going into a rant about how he'd win an award for dick-sucking if there was one, when Roman interrupts him.

"Didn't ask you to be so damn mouthy. Shut yourself up or I'll do it for you," Roman warns, voice low, and there's no real heat in the threat, but it makes the other kind of heat pool in Seth's gut and color his cheeks, and he ducks his head so fast he gets dizzy, wrapping his lips around the head of Roman's cock once more.

This time, he actually starts sucking, moving slowly down the length of Roman's cock until he's about halfway down and his jaw is burning. He reaches a hand up and wraps it around what he can't reach with his mouth, stroking while he sucks, and Roman groans appreciatively, his hand making its way back into Seth's hair while he murmurs praise.

Seth sucks until his jaw is aching and drool is spilling out of his mouth and dripping onto his knuckles, and Roman's moans are more involuntary and sounding like he's fairly close. Seth pulls off and sucks in a deep lungful of air, chest heaving and his cock throbbing urgently in his pants, and Roman's pulling back a little bit and saying something that's unintelligible with all the blood rushing in his ears.

He doesn't know what the hell Roman said, but Roman's apparently expecting an answer, and so he nods, not sure what he's agreeing to. And then Roman is pushing into his open mouth, and Seth starts trying to suck again, but Roman stops him by pulling out a little bit and pushing back in, and he realizes Roman just wants to fuck his mouth, and he's very glad he agreed to it.

He chokes a little bit here and there, but for the most part, he relaxes and just lets Roman use him, practically limp and swaying with the motion of Roman's thrusts. He may not have ever sucked a dick this big before, but he knows how to make it good, knows how to give a guy what he wants.

And then Roman is moaning something that sounds like his name, and he's spilling down his throat, Seth taking in as much as he can without choking. He takes a moment to compose himself when Roman pulls away, feeling simultaneously debauched and vulnerable, and he wonders if he can convince Roman to fuck him through the hotel room mattress.

He's about to open his mouth to ask when Roman pulls him to his feet, and Seth squeaks in surprise.

"Gonna take care of you, like I promised," Roman says, and Seth can still see sparks of lust in his eyes, though his gaze feels soft and warm, almost fond.

Roman presses his lips to Seth's, pressing a hand between their bodies to slip it beneath the waistband of Seth's sweatpants. He grasps Seth's cock and begins to stroke him, Seth gasping into his mouth at the touch, and he's been so hard that it only takes a few strokes for him to come, Roman swallowing his moan as he spills over Roman's hand and into his pants, legs shaking slightly from the force of his orgasm.

Roman breaks the kiss and smiles softly at Seth as he removes his hand from Seth's pants, and Seth's so dazed by that smile and what just conspired that he almost doesn't react to the sound of the door opening. Thankfully, Roman has a faster reaction time than he does, shoving Seth away from him and grabbing his sweatpants hurriedly, mouthing ' _sorry'_ to Seth as he steps into them and pulls them up his legs.

Dean takes his sweet time meandering into the room, and he stares long and hard at the two of them when he finally makes himself visible. Seth feels uncomfortable under his intense gaze; it feels like he _knows._ If the flush of Seth's cheeks and his tousled hair wasn't enough indication that something happened, it's the way Seth squirms under Dean's gaze that probably gives him away.

"You two were up to something," Dean decides as he crosses over to his and Roman's shared bed, sprawling out haphazardly atop it.

"Got no idea what you're talking about," Roman says, and Seth can tell his tone nearly belies his words.

Dean grins. "Sure you don't," he says easily.

(Seth throws his bed's pillows at him in hopes of getting him to shut up. It doesn't work.)


End file.
